Blooms On A Starship
by Phritzie
Summary: Or, Isn't Sulu the Botanist? Jim considers his relationship with Spock, future and present, over a game of chess. Hints of K/S.


**A/N: **I upload way too early in the morning. And have way too many ideas. All the time.

To clarify- unlike my Kirk/Bones friendship and pre-slash series, most anything I write for K/S is slash. (Although I'm itching to write an S/U AU. Auughh.) By proxy, this story is a rare breed of my writing and is, largely, experimental. It's just a wee drabble. So short to begin with that it's actually longer than I anticipated.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Trek. All rights go its respective owners, of which I am not included.

**Warnings: **None. Jim will swear at the drop of a pin, though. So, there's that.

* * *

Stubbornness. Bones would have called it the Vulcan's prerogative for stubbornness.

It had gone on for weeks now, like this. Minced words, over-formality. Shop talk. This wasn't how it happened for their counterparts. The other Jim had no problem getting his Spock to open up- but then again, the other Jim hadn't dissed the hell out of the other Spock's feelings for his mother. That Jim had a respect for Spock that he understood implicitly. That he would never bypass for reasons of personal gain or pride.

It was camaraderie. It was brotherhood. It was love.

Jim wanted that. Jim _needed _that, with Spock.

They were in his quarters tonight. He didn't know why, but Jim always played chess with Spock in his quarters. As if Spock didn't trust him enough to play chess in Jim's territory.

How fitting.

"Spock, I'd tell you not to move your rook, but if you insist- I'll happily capitalize on your error."

A Vulcan gaze appraised him evenly. "I doubt your logic." He moved the rook up a level and three spaces. Cunning and well-calculated, but against Jim's guerrilla warfare chess tactics- a waste.

He picked off the rook easily with a pawn that had been parked on the top level for about twelve turns now. "Check." Jim smiled.

Spock leaned back in his chair and fixed the board with an examining stare, as if he wasn't entirely certain how that had come about. And then there it was again.

Cold, bitter emptiness filled the intense void of Spock's eyes, draining away whatever emotion he had been about to express. Distaste, perhaps - as if that had been some sort of personal insult towards Spock, instead of the friendly competitive enthusiasm Jim knew the other captain shared with his first officer over chess.

Finally- "A most fascinating move, Captain."

It almost wasn't fair, but then, a lot of things about his life weren't fair.

His mother leaving home for nine months out of the year was unfair. His brother leaving home at twelve to let him bear the brunt of Frank's wrath was unfair. The standards he now had to live up to, in the face of a future already spelled out for him – but not really – was unfair.

If Jim were being honest with himself, it wouldn't be surprising that the first good thing that had happened to him in a while was also yet another hurdle in disguise.

Jim nudged a piece absentmindedly, trying his best to affect an air of contemplation. It shouldn't have been that difficult, but he was actually more there, in that room with his XO and chief science officer, than he ever had been. He was not lost deep in thought, but rather just looking at Spock. Really, truly looking at Spock, and seeing what he needed to see.

Hands folded tightly in his lap. Back, ramrod straight. Not a hair out of place and still in uniform. They had an hour before Spock would call the usual shenanigans and demand they put up the chess set for next week in favor of rest. _You require far more sleep than I, a Vulcan, would, Captain._ They'd finished games in half that time, though. Most noticeably were his eyebrows, hovering questioningly, and the shade to his dark brown eyes that regarded the three-tiered game board with carefully concealed disdain. Spock was obviously still attempting to divine an answer as to how Jim had snuck up on him.

"Jim, Spock," he corrected belatedly, and watched as Spock finally lifted his queen and used it to block his king from any potential hostility. "I told you. When we're off duty, you can call me Jim."

For the first time in about half an hour, Spock met his scolding look head-on.

"Yes, Captain."

And there it was again. That same defiant aversion. That polite antipathy. All for Jim. Wrapped up in a disobeyed order or an ignored suggestion, Spock would just _find_ ways to barb him without repercussion.

Jim smirked, though he wasn't amused. There wasn't any letting it go this time, though it pained him to have to pursue this so avidly. Insubordination, however insignificant, was all the same. "Jim."

Spock leveled him with a blank stare, but something about the tilt of his eyebrows was less severe than it had been earlier. Warmer, perhaps; or maybe he was finally just hallucinating what he wanted to see. Jim wouldn't put that past himself.

"Jim." Finally.

"Wasn't that easy?" He reached for another piece. Should he move his knight on the offensive, or move his bishop a more adequate distance from that queen?

But he was interrupted. "Jim." Insistently.

Oh. It had been an address, then, not a compliance with a perfectly reasonable request. Of course. Naturally. "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

"I thank you," Spock said, considering one of Jim's pieces which he had captured due to a distraction from the bridge earlier on in the game- pure luck, he claimed, though that was immediately refuted as illogical. Though his fingertips molded around the tip of the piece in pondering touches, his eyes never did leave Jim's.

"What for?"

"Your… persistent, but not unwanted, companionship." The barest hint of a green flush dusted over Spock's cheekbones, but only momentarily. If Jim had blinked, he wouldn't have caught it.

"I have no idea why you would feel the need to thank me for that, but you're welcome." Jim pushed his knight into a trap with as much gusto and gracefully forfeit panache as could be made visible, grinning.

Spock glanced at the board, frowning, but took the cue without question, tipping Jim's king on to its side with a pointer finger. "Checkmate, C-"

The title, so neutrally said and suddenly aborted. Vulcan eyebrows tilted inwards reproachfully. Jim's eyes gleamed. If the blond hadn't known that Spock would hold him up on it, Jim would have laughed. Okay, so. No. He didn't have a friendship with Spock that would last for all time. Not yet, anyway. And there was not much of a hint of Spock's weariness of Jim being dialed down. At least, not so low that they would forget, so soon, of the Narada incident's effects on them. They were working on it. It had taken months already for them to become this comfortable with each other.

It was a little disappointing. He felt a little disappointing.

But if there was one thing Jim knew, it was that there was no such thing as a no-win scenario.

"-Jim."

He'd already beaten one of Spock's tests.

"…You play a challenging, if illogical, game of chess."

"Time for one more?"

"I would not be adverse to that."

* * *

Fin.


End file.
